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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29271861">Putting Down Roots</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pameluke/pseuds/Pameluke'>Pameluke</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Original Work</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/F, Handwaved Architecture, House Plants, Nymphs &amp; Dryads, Roommates</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 03:28:16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,877</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29271861</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pameluke/pseuds/Pameluke</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Since Olea moved in, Dalina's home has been overrun with plants. She doesn't mind, as long as Olea is happy.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Eco-Architect/The Dryad Moving Onto Their Prize-Winning Design</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Chocolate Box - Round 6</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Putting Down Roots</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/wavewright62/gifts">wavewright62</a>.</li>



    </ul></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>🌿</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a pothos vine growing through the gap under the door again. Dalina didn't mind, but she always worried about neighbors complaining about her plants littering the hallway. Dealing with the Homeowner’s Association was not her idea of a good time, and she didn't want them all up in her business. Grumbling under her breath while she looked for her keys in her always-messy purse, she took care to not step on any leaves. Lifting the door to not pull any of the vines on the floor with it, Dalina stepped into her apartment. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The hallway was covered in vines trailing down from the ceiling. Carefully pushing them to the side, Dalina slipped out of her shoes, digging her toes in the soft moss that started halfway through the hallway. "I'm home," she yelled. She always thought that surely Olea must sense somehow when Dalina touched her plants, imbued with her magic as they were, but Olea had never explicitly made that clear, so Dalina couldn't be sure. With every step making her bare feet sink into the soft, thick moss, Dalina relaxed. It had taken some getting used to initially, and sometimes at night, she had lain awake worrying about the structural damages all this plant life would do to the apartment in case she ever moved out and had to sell it. But most of the time she enjoyed it, and the green engulfing her home put her at ease.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Olea didn't answer, which meant she was probably enjoying the afternoon sun in the roof garden. Dalina made them both a cup of tea while going through the mail, most of it bills and advertisements. There was one official-looking letter from ASGA, the Association For Sustainable and Green Architecture, that made her frown a little. You'd think that an organization with a focus on sustainability wouldn't use paper mail anymore, but then some things were probably too ingrained to change. So fancy invitations it was.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sipping her tea and taking a cup for Olea with her, the letter stuck under her arm, Dalina crossed through her apartment. Dappled sunlight filtered through the leaves in the atrium. When she'd first designed the penthouse apartment she hadn't thought that the big open space would one day be filled with trees and vines, but now she couldn't envision her home any other way. She smiled at another leaf unfurling on her monstera. In the twenty years she'd owned it, the plant had grown big with beautiful and large fenestrations in its leaves. But it hadn't started to thrive until Olea had come into her life, and now, the plant was sprawling, taking up almost a quarter of the room and nearly reaching the ceiling. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her water bill was going to be enormous again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Smiling, Dalina climbed up the spiral stairs to the roof garden, careful to avoid the tradescantia that seemed to be flowing down the stairs. Its purple and green leaves were a nice pop of color in the room. She'd gotten it as a cutting from a college friend ten years ago, and while she wasn't a huge fan of fuzzy leaves in plants, she'd always loved it for its color. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Initially, blinking as her eyes adjusted to the light of the afternoon sun, Dalina almost mistook Olea for one of the trees. The barklike skin on her legs seemed to disappear into the layer of earth on the roof, as she dug her toes into the moss and soil just like Dalina. Olea was standing still, arms and head upturned to the sun, tanned skin soaking up the heat, the lilac blossoms in her long, brown-green hair catching the light. Dalina took a deep breath, filling her lungs with the familiar fragrance of blooming trees. She hadn't told Olea this, but when Olea had first become a part of her life, Dalina had made a trip to the botanical garden, confirming her suspicion that no other tree smelled quite like Olea did. No regular tree quite overtook her senses like Olea. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not wanting to disturb Olea’s thoughts, Dalina sat down on the only chaise longue not covered in greenery. The water in the pond was babbling, and here, up high and sheltered from the wind by the trees, no other sound of the city could be heard. Like she'd stumbled on a meadow instead of a garden on a skyscraper roof. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I've brought you some tea if you want," Dalina said softly. Sipping from her own cup, she finally opened the thick envelope.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It only took her a couple of lines to grasp what the letter was about. The ASGA Biennale was happening this year, which meant the big award ceremony was also happening. She would need to work on her speech. It was traditional for the previous winner to offer a keynote speech, noting the progress made in the discipline and beyond, after which she would pass on the award previously given to her. The whole thing was an overwrought conference, filled with ceremonial brouhaha, and Dalina had hated every single one she’d had to attend.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The leaves rustled and pulled her attention from the letter. Olea came out of her stretch, smiled at the sun, and then came and sat next to Dalina. In the grass, little daisies grew in the wake of Olea's steps, as if she was the sun that gave them life. Dalina absently wondered whether, if she planted sunflowers, they too would always turn to face towards Olea. Maybe next summer she could find out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Olea sat close enough that Dalina could feel the heat radiating from her. She still hadn’t warmed to the concept of clothing, covering herself with bark instead. It reminded Dalina of armor in a way, how the bark tended to cover her most vulnerable places. Only armor wasn’t supposed to change and grow organically at the wearer’s whim. Since she’d just been sunbathing, the bark was barely covering her now, making Dalina fight down a blush.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Olea sipped from her tea. She hummed, eyes closed, licking her lips. Dalina did her best not to stare and sipped her own tea. "Verbena and sage," Olea decided, the corner of her mouth lifting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dalina elbowed her a little, careful to not jostle the cup in Olea's hands but hard enough to convey her frustration. "I'll never be able to surprise you." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Olea shrugged. "What's in the letter?" she asked, gesturing at the fancy paper in Dalina's lap. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh, it's the invitation for the ASGA Biennale. They like to pretend they’re fancier than they are. But I’ll have to pass on the Maahrabi Award to the next laureate, so there’s a lot of information here about the protocols. I'll have to write a speech, which I'm really not-" Dalina broke off. Olea had turned... not pale, but the lilacs in her hair seemed to be wilting, and the bark parts of her skin seemed to cover more of her body, as if she was... hunching in on herself. "Olea, are you okay? Oh no, I didn't poison you, did I? Are you allergic to verbena?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Olea waved her off, the grass around her ankles growing tall and abundant in front of their eyes until it reached Olea's knees, covering her up. "I knew the seasons passed, of course, but I hadn't quite made the connection to the Biennale happening this summer again." Olea sighed, and around them, the leaves of the trees seemed to rustle on the wind. "I'll prepare," she said. She put her cup down and walked away, leaving Dalina utterly confused. A leaf gently danced down, ending up at her feet. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Prepare for what?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>When Dalina followed Olea down at a more sedate pace, Olea had retreated to the gazebo Dalina had designed for her in the atrium. The canopy of ivy and pothos was closed all around, so Dalina didn't disturb her privacy, even though she was worried. In the center of the room, her Maahrabi award stood alone. She would get a smaller replacement when she returned it, of course, but it wouldn’t compare to the actual tree trunk statue, ancient and petrified, that formed such an important part of the room. She'd have to move things around again. Maybe Olea could help since she'd pretty much taken over the whole atrium. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe she could finally make that inside brook work that she'd been breaking her head over, provide Olea with running water. Dalina poured herself more tea and took her laptop to her home office. Maybe if she worked hard enough and figured out all the calculations, she could cheer Olea up with the news in the morning.</span>
</p><p>🍃</p><p>
  <span>Except Olea didn't come out of her gazebo in the morning. Dalina was definitely worried now, but unsure how to proceed. It had taken them quite a while to understand each other after Olea had first stepped out of her trunk, and Dalina was still a little wary to cross unknown boundaries or cultural differences.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So she put a plate of toast and a cup of tea, plain chamomile this time, on the little steps up the gazebo, and left for work, leaves floating down behind her.</span>
</p><p>🍂</p><p>
  <span>No vines were creeping under the hallway door when Dalina came back in the late afternoon. She still opened the door carefully to avoid hurting any vines on the other side, but she shouldn't have worried. All the plants in the hallway were gone. Dalina cursed. Something was wrong. She put her coat on the hanger, toed off her shoes, and called out Olea's name. The moss crinkled under her toes, all dry and dead. What had happened here? Was Olea still here? </span>
  <em>
    <span>Was she still alive?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Dalina hurried into the apartment, dropping her stuff off in the kitchen where she was greeted with more dead leaves and withering plants. The orchids on the counter had dropped all their flowers in a day, and the calatheas were all browned and wilting. The only plant still standing in the kitchen was one of her trusted sansevierias, the only plants she'd felt certain of being able to keep alive before Olea had arrived into her life.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When she made her way to the atrium, most of the plants that she'd initially put there were still alive, although the leaves of her monstera were drooping, and most of the vines attached to the ceiling had lots of yellow leaves. The floors were covered in brown, dry moss and yellow and brown papery leaves that cracked and rustled under her feet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Olea?" Dalina called. The ivy around the gazebo had thinned out noticeably, enough for Dalina to be able to see inside. More dead leaves were spread out over the gazebo floor on top of Olea's books and trinkets. The tea and food that Dalina had left there yesterday were still untouched.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The gazebo looked deserted. The flat looked deserted. Dread filling her stomach, Dalina ran up the stairs, hoping against hope that Olea would be there, enjoying the sun like always. The roof garden looked mostly unchanged, although everything looked a little dryer and - from the grass to the bushes and the trees -everything looked less healthy than it did the day before. But all of it was part of the original building design, and Dalina had designed it to do well in the local climate. The garden would survive, even without Olea. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dalina didn't want to live here without her, however.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Biting back tears, Dalina went back to the kitchen. She needed to think and figure out what could have happened to make Olea disappear. How'd she gotten out of the flat in the first place? They'd never really discussed it in detail, but Dalina had gotten the impression that Olea was bound to her trunk in some way. She hadn't moved much those first days, and it had taken months for her to explore the flat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If she couldn't leave, then that meant- </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dalina's eyes fell on the invitation she'd left on the counter yesterday. The invitation for the ceremony where she was to pass on the award in a big pompous event. Only a few hundred people were invested in the field of Eco-Architecture, and yet, they pretended it was like winning the Stanley Cup. Only this award you got to keep for two years. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dalina cursed under her breath while she hurried back to the atrium. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>How hadn't she noticed that Olea was right here? She'd merged back into the trunk, her feet and legs no longer discernible from it, her skin completely covered in her barken armor, obscuring the shape of her body. "Oh no," Dalina whispered when she realized Olea's fingers had turned to twigs. But even though one hand was reaching towards the ceiling, she still looked smaller. Olea wasn't only merging into her trunk, she was disappearing back into it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Please don't leave," Dalina begged, dropping to her knees. Underneath her hands, beneath dried moss and dead leaves, the floor was cracked, leaving what looked like vine-like voids from the roots shrinking back. Olea had... Olea had </span>
  <em>
    <span>grown</span>
  </em>
  <span> here, right in her apartment, and now she was ungrowing herself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Please, i-I'm working on an indoor brook for you, so you'll have water in abundance. I was considering opening up the eastern wall, so you'd get more morning light." Desperately, Dalina grabbed for reasons Olea might want to stay, talking faster and faster in her panic. "I really like having you here, and I thought that, once you grew bored of the roof garden, we could find a way for you to explore the exterior facade. I don't know how your magic works, exactly, but I think there should be enough greenery there for you to thrive, and, um, the tea I ordered from Macedonia finally arrived! I did some research, and I think that's where your tree originally comes from? So... maybe the tea will taste like home for you."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dalina's voice broke on the word home. "I kind of hoped that maybe, this apartment was your home now… but I guess I was wrong."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Twigs caught in her hair. Olea’s fingers. When Dalina looked up, Olea's face was bare from bark and looking down at her, her dark eyes sad and wary. "You want me to stay?" Her voice sounded raspy and alien, like it came from deep within her and simultaneously from all the plants around them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Of course I want you to stay! Everything is so much better since you stepped out of that trunk." Dalina stood up, gesturing wildly at their surroundings. "You've filled my house with plants and life and laughter, and I've been so inspired by trying to incorporate even more natural elements in my design, and... you make me happy." Dalina sighed. "I just want you to be happy too. I thought you were, but... all the dead plants say otherwise."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I was," Olea said, her voice soft but sounding a little more like herself. "I thought you didn't want me here any longer, that you wanted to pass me on. None of the other laureates wanted me in their space." Olea grunted in derision. "Most of them kept me in their offices, without enough natural light or space to grow. Your place is nice. I haven't flourished like this in ages. It suits me here. And you make me tea and listen to my thoughts on your designs and bring me books."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You're happy here?" Dalina asked. Then, to make sure, she added, "I make you happy?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yes. You've made me very happy."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"</span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh</span>
  </em>
  <span>," Dalina whispered, and then, spurred on by all the emotions still coursing through her, she leaned forward and kissed Olea. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Around them the leaves rustled, the room suddenly smelling like spring air and new leaves. Moss tickled Dalina's bare feet and when she opened her eyes, the room was awash in the bright green of new growth. Olea was smiling, her hair full with sweet-smelling lilacs, the flowers flowing down her shoulders. "I'd like to stay," she said, stepping out of the trunk. Dalina blinked in an attempt to make sense of what she saw, then shrugged. She had kind of figured that, if Olea was going to stay, weird magical physics-does-not-work-that-way things were going to keep happening.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Do I need to steal the award so you can stay?" Dalina wondered aloud, suddenly worried that even though Olea might want to stay, if she was magically bound to the petrified trunk, she might be taken away after all. She was ready for a life of magic, but she wasn’t sure she was up for a life of crime.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I was already rooting here," Olea said, somewhat awkwardly pointing at the cracks in the floor where her roots had pulled free. "There should be enough time left for me to do so again. I should be able to sustain myself here." Olea grinned. "Especially if you do get running water here. That brook sounds nice."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not believing her luck, Dalina pressed a kiss to Olea's fingers, which were no longer twigs, although her skin was still textured like bark. "I'll show you the preliminary designs while you try your new tea," she said, and pulled Olea to their kitchen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>🌱</span>
</p>
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